It often happens that a horse brimfull of qualifications of the very best description is most reluctantly sold by his master "because he shies so dreadfully," a frolic which, to a good rider, is perfectly harmless, and which, if he deems it worth the trouble, he is almost certain to cure.

A timid horseman, however, not only believes that his horse is frightened at the little heap of stones at which he shies, but for this very reason he becomes frightened at it himself; whereas the truth is that the animal's sensations in passing it are usually compounded as follows:—

Of fear of {the little heap 1/10.
{whip and spur 9/10.

Now, if this be the case, which no one of experience will deny, it is evident that the simple remedy to be adopted is, first, at once to remove the great cause of the evil complained of, by ceasing to apply either whip or spur; and, secondly, gradually to remove the lesser cause by a little patient management which shall briefly be explained.

When a horse has been overloaded with a heavy charge of oats and beans, which may be termed jumping powder, and primed by a very short allowance of work, his spirits, like the hair trigger of a rifle, are prepared on the smallest touch to cause a very violent explosion. In fact, without metaphor, on the slightest occurrence he is not only ready, but exceedingly desirous, to jump for joy.

The casus belli which the animal would perhaps most enjoy would be to meet a temperance run-away awning-covered waggon full of stout, healthy young women in hysterics, all screaming; or to have a house fall down just as he was passing it. However, as a great conqueror, if he cannot discover a large excuse for invading the territory of his neighbour, is sure to pick out a very little one, so does the high mettled horse who has nothing to start at, proceed under his rider with his eyes searching in all directions for something which he may pretend to be afraid of. Influenced by these explosive propensities he cocks his ears at a large leaf which the air had gently roused from its sleep, as if it were a crouching tiger; and shortly afterwards a fore leg drops under him as suddenly as if it had been carried away by a cannon shot, because in the hedge beside him a wren has just hopped from one twig to another nearly an inch.

Now, of course, the effective cure for all these symptoms of exuberant, pent up spirits is a long, steady hand-gallop up and down hill across rather deep ground. Before, however, this opportunity offers, man can offer to the brute beneath him a more reasonable remedy.

The instant that a horse at a walk sees at a short distance before him, say a heap of stones, at which he pretends to be or really is afraid, instead of forcing him on, he should be allowed or, if it be necessary, forced to stop, not only till he has ceased to fear it, but until, dead tired of looking at it, he averts his eyes elsewhere.

While advancing towards it, so often as his fear, or pretended fear, breaks out, by instantly bringing him to a stand-still it should in like manner be over-appeased.

In slowly passing any object which a horse appears to be afraid of, the error which is almost invariably committed is to turn his head towards it, in which case, revolving upon his bit as on a pivot, the animal turns his hind-quarters from it, and in that position with great ease shies more or less away from it; whereas, if the rein opposite to it be pulled firmly, he not only instantly ascertains that his rider's desire is in opposition to, instead of in favour of forcing him towards the object of his fear, but when his head is drawn away from it, although he is able to rush forwards, it is out of his power to shy laterally.

Now, instead of endeavouring thus to triumph over instinct by reason, instead of allowing a horse more time even than he requires to appease his own apprehensions, be they real or pretended, the course which a gentleman's groom usually adopts is, like giving fuel to fire, to add to the animal's fear of the object he is unwilling to approach, his infinitely greater fear of a pair of plated spurs.

The oftener and the stronger this ignorant prescription is applied, the more violent becomes the disease it undertakes to alleviate, until, on its being declared to be incurable, the poor frightened animal is sold for a fault almost entirely created by human hands and inhuman heels.

The extent to which a timid animal can be appeased by kindness is, at the present moment, beautifully exemplified by a deer, which has been so divested of its fears by Tom Hill, the huntsman of the Surrey fox-hounds, that the animal not only accompanies the hounds when taken out for exercise, but eats biscuit, and actually sleeps with them in the kennel.

If, during their meal, two of the hounds fight, by a pat with his fore feet he tries to separate them. If, at exercise, anything alarms him, with a bound or two he vaults for safety into the middle of the pack. And yet, when in this citadel, if any strange dog approaches them, with malice prepense he rushes out at him, as if determined to kill him. In short, by kind superintendence the deer has become as fond of blood-thirsty hounds as they of him.